


Needed: Emetic for Word Vomit

by GarnetsAndRoses



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood and Injury, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Decapitation, Dream Smp, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Depression, Mental Health Issues, Nostalgia, Old Friends, One Shot, Purple Prose, Sapnap Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Sapnap Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Sapnap-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Self-Indulgent, Violence, Whump, he's so underappreciated smh, pspspspsp come get your dsmp sapnap angst, welp at least i made this self-indulgent bs, why can't we reorder tags smh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:47:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28571736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GarnetsAndRoses/pseuds/GarnetsAndRoses
Summary: Sapnap's never had a way with words. That makes it much harder to explain away why he can never seem to let go of the past. Of course, when his future is the Battle of the Lake, it makes more sense.A retelling of Sapnap's life on the SMP.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 76





	Needed: Emetic for Word Vomit

Sapnap has never been good with explaining himself. It starts barely noticeable, but as a child it’s okay for him to talk with small words. Kids aren’t smart after all, and he knows he’s the prime example of that. The real problems begin when he meets his best friends, Dream and George, who make him  _ feel _ concepts and inklings of large complicated ideas that always curl up lazily in his mind. Haunting, like the shadows flowing under the lake that Sapnap first found the two other boys skipping rocks across.

And those complicated ideas deserve words, he decides.

It’s a balmy summer evening as the three (Sapnap is okay with calling them the “Dream Team” but he’s never been so sure about George’s opinions on the matter so he sticks with the less concise but more energetic “just-us-three”) sit and stare out at the meadows that make up the outskirts of the village they live in.

“I just wanted to say that you guys are . . . really cool,” he says. The words come out mangled, and he tries not to sigh. It’s not enough.

George smiles and starts to speak before Dream cuts in and jokingly replies, “We know that already!”

Sapnap balks and splutters, “No, no, I’m serious. You’re both just . . . nice to be my friends. A- and we do so much fun stuff together, it’s really cool!”

His friends giggle.

“Thanks, Sap,” teases George. “It’s not like that was a lot of words to say nothing much. But thanks.”

Looking away, Sapnap nods and stares down at the grass beneath his feet. He knows he’s bad at words, but he can’t stay that way forever.

The summer slips into fall, and Sapnap slips into a new persona. Now he’s smarter and funnier, and never  _ ever _ sentimental because he’s not going to make Dream and George remember that fuck-up on that evening that seemed so long ago but was really only the blink of an eye away.

And in that single blink, the world is so very different. “Different” is the best word Sapnap can use and it’s once again so unfitting. Maybe something with more weight for just how full of confusion and panic his mind is.

“Different” definitely doesn’t fit what he feels as Dream declares, “Let’s start our own country!”

“Sure,” laughs Sapnap. The rest of his doubting words stall, laying heavy and dead on his tongue. He doesn’t have time to spit them out and hold Dream back. It’s not like Sapnap wants to leave the village and the meadow and the lake behind, not for the promise of unsettled land in a world that no one has heard of.

But the promise is so sweet. Dream has always been so good at turning each word into honey (which is true but also an overused phrase but the repetition is the only way Sapnap can remember it) and it drips into his ears and covers up the worries. And clearly it works on their other friends, because suddenly it’s the eight of them traveling to their new lives.

“Aren’t we kind of lonely here, dude?” he asks George one day as they sit atop the roof of the community house. His fingers trace the newly-placed wooden planks beneath him.

“It’s not lonely at all,” replies George. “There’s all eight of us, and more people are on their way.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

It doesn’t. It doesn’t make any sense, not-at-fucking-all, and Sapnap mentally kicks himself for swearing when he should be thinking of something better to say, or anything at all. There’s so much more than loneliness on the SMP, he decides. It’s like an emptiness? The feeling that there’s too much around and it makes you feel small . . .

Before Sapnap can say that out loud, George has stood up and rubbed his arms. “Let’s go inside, it’s really cold out here.”

Sapnap has time for one last look out towards the setting sun before he gets up and heads inside. The two of them keep up a steady stream of chatter, as they pack up their bags and layer on coats, and it’s reassuring. There’s no need for much thought as they talk, and Sapnap likes it.

There’s no need for thought as he stands over the ghostly corpses of pets and the remains of tiny fuzzy animals and a pyre that he knows is hot enough to incinerate the bucket he grips so very tightly. It’s all rage and retribution, and that shocks Sapnap because retribution seems like a big word for him to apply to what he’s about to do, which is so small and petty.

“Get back,” he spits. The pit of lava roils at the bottom of his stomach, and the hissing of the molten rock nearly drowns out the cries of Fundy and Niki.

Niki doesn’t look human as she screams and reaches for her fish and claws at the air. She’s even crying but that seems like an overreaction. Smoke drifts up from the fire and the acidity makes Sapnap’s vision blur. He blinks the watery droplets away but they still drip down his face and he turns away.

Fundy shouts, “You don’t know what we’ll do to you if you burn that fish.”

The furry is right, Sapnap decides. He doesn’t know what they’ll do, or what he’ll do to himself. So many bad possibilities. It seems like the infinite sky, now tinted with ash, is warping until there’s more than infinity, it’s all too much. And from that endless stream of  _ too much _ comes something that makes Sapnap jerk his hand down and face Fundy and Niki slowly.

“Have it back. As a peace offering,” he declares. It’s sentimentality incarnate (a word he only learned to use to try and describe to Punz just how annoying Fundy was) as he gently passes back the bucket with the tiny fish circling inside.

Niki breathes, “Thank you so much, Sapnap.”

He doesn’t try to respond, the words cling to his throat and it wouldn’t be a good apology anyway. So many words to choose from, but Sapnap has forgotten them.

The days go by, and he comes out from his house less and less, and it’s really obvious that something is wrong with him. There’s too much to do every day, and Sapnap contents himself with barely waking up at all just to avoid having to get up. The only thing that he makes sure of is to close the blinds tightly to avoid the outside from getting in and making his life just that much more complicated.

Punz comes by one day, and he’s clearly expecting disrepair or squalor instead of the pristine untouchedness of the entire house. “Dude,” he says as he approaches Sapnap’s blanket-covered form, “how long have you been locking yourself up in here?”

“Leave me alone.” Sapnap rolls over to face the wall and squeezes his eyes shut.

Sitting down at the foot of the bed, Punz sighs. “I just wanted to check on you, man. How long has it been since you went outside?”

Sapnap murmurs, “Too long.” Any snark intended can’t make its way into his tone and it sounds pathetic. He’s pathetic. There’s so many words to describe how Punz pats Sapnap’s shoulder (“gently” comes to mind) and sighs (“softly,” like he doesn’t want to hurt his friend). But Sapnap is plain-old pathetic.

When Punz finally leaves and locks the door, Sapnap is glad. He doesn’t deserve reminders of the kindness tucked away into the panic-inducing world just lying in wait outside of the walls of his house.

It’s not long until shit hits the fan and suddenly Dream is knocking on Sapnap’s door and pleading with him to  _ come out, please Sap can you come out for just a bit _ .

Sapnap cries. It shocks him because he finally feels something other than bland nothingness but it’s so very painful. Eventually he makes his way to the door, swiping away tears. He doesn’t cry in front of Dream, he never has and never will. With a last sniff, Sapnap unlocks the door and lets Dream look inside of the dark house.

Sunlight cleaves through the house and illuminates Dream’s face. The concern slips away from his features and he says, “God, I’m so glad to finally see you.” He hugs Sapnap tightly and murmurs into his friend’s ear. “George is coming by soon. It can just be the three of us, right?”

It sounds good. Sapnap realizes, as he buries his face in Dream’s shoulder, that he wants to be good and not cause trouble for his friends. The idea of it sounds good, and he doesn’t hesitate to follow Dream towards the community house.

God, why the hell can’t it be easier to go along with Dream’s plans? Is Sapnap just stupid? Why is he staring at his best friend’s porcelain mask as they face off while Technoblade ( _ the _ Technoblade) monologues, a slow drone of promises of violence? Even in the darkness, Dream’s face is shadowed. Sapnap leans against Punz for support and grips his sword tighter.

“Dream—” he begins.

Suddenly the night is illuminated by a spray of red and blue fireworks and a splash of more red as Technoblade drives his sword through Ant’s armor. Ant chokes something out before falling to the ground. His eyes rove across the spark-filled air before rolling up into his head. Sapnap yelps as Dream leaps towards him. Bad and Skeppy rush forward and their swords block Dream’s with a smashing noise that makes Sapnap recoil. He stumbles away and fumbles with the strength potion on his hip. An arrow whizzes past his nose.

“It’s over for you, bitches!” screams Tommy. The teen reloads his crossbow and skitters out of the way as Punz swings at him. Punz disappears behind a flash of green cloth. Dream readies himself to bring his sword down through Punz’s back.

The potion drops from Sapnap’s belt and rolls away,  _ goddamnit _ . He crouches down and grabs for it but can’t find anything in the dark mess of grass. Another firework goes off and the burst of light lets Sapnap find and snatch the bottle.

In front of Dream, Technoblade deflects Bad’s wild slashing and sprints towards the edge of the forest. The edge of the forest where Sapnap crouches. Techno’s cloak flutters as he leaps over Skeppy’s body— Skeppy’s body, Skeppy looks dead, blood is smeared across his helmet—

Sapnap wants to sob as the shimmer of a netherite axe passes across his vision but he rolls away in time. His shoes find no traction against the dew-spotted ground as he scrambles away. Techno rips his axe from the ground. He whirls around as a blur of blonde hair and pink sweater comes tearing out of the forest.

“Dream! Help!” screams Sapnap. His voice is hoarse, barely audible over the wet squelch of an axe being driven through Niki’s chest and the cackle that seems to explode from Techno’s mouth.

Dream turns from where he stands, leisurely. Nightmare gleams in his grip, purple netherite and red blood smeared together.

Nightmare makes a clean line through Sapnap's neck.

When he wakes up, he has to shield his eyes from the light permeating the room. There are voices speaking, but they're too garbled and they mix in with screaming and splattering and the noise of shutters closing. Shutters closing?

George comes into view as the piercing light fades and lowers himself onto the foot of Sapnap’s bed. “Are you okay, Sap?”

Sapnap cringes at the sound of his friend’s voice. Slowly he opens his eyes but the room around him blurs with streaky tears. His arms are heavy as he lifts them to limply wipe the tears away. “Where’s Dream?” he rasps suddenly (no need to focus on inanities like  _ what happened _ because Sapnap tries not to sound stupid in general and it would be very stupid to act oblivious to the stinging that still lights his neck on fire).

“Dream’s talking with Eret,” answers George hoarsely. “Something about the kingship. And . . . the Pogtopians.”

It’s frustrating blinking up at George, with his mournful doe eyes and tensely pursed lips and barely-furrowed eyebrows. He looks so sad, but there’s something more there. Something more that Sapnap can’t even  _ hope _ to grasp. The only thing he knows to cling to and wrap his fist around are the memories of the Dream Team (he remembers when it was “just-us-three” but Dream and George probably don’t think about those days constantly like Sapnap does).

Too many comforting scenes flash by in a constant dance to avoid the pitch-black shadows that flit across Sapnap’s mind. Smooth stones skidding across a lake before drifting into the depths. They barely make a splash. A body collapsing without its head and slipping into a rusty-red pond. It barely makes a splash.

It’s so much to think about, and it’s so hard to think at all when there’s so much pain splitting his neck, and maybe he shouldn’t be trying to force a jumble of words out of his dry mouth. “George, can we go find Dream?”

“We should wait for you to recover some more,” George answers hesitantly. “And . . . why do you want to see Dream after all of that?”

Well, he wants to go back to just the three of them and back to when they wouldn’t need to chatter about anything more than lunch or who was winning a game of tag. It’s the thing he chases and runs after and stumbles for and will throw himself towards. But how can he admit that without sounding like he wants to run back to that weak nostalgia (and the arms of the person who just beheaded him)?

Maybe it would be better to die again than catch the disappointment scrawled across George’s features as Sapnap rolls over and stares at the wall.

Sapnap has never been good with explaining himself. So he shuts up.

**Author's Note:**

> please pretend this didn't take almost 2 weeks to write! i really hope you enjoyed, even if this fic was super incoherent. it's sooooo self-indulgent but that's why we have the term "pet project" right? hopefully sapnap fans like me are at least fed, bc on the smp he practically disappeared after the pet wars.
> 
> please leave a comment, i'd love to hear your thoughts on the fic or even just sapnap's character! have a good day and don't forget to be kind ^w^
> 
> ps. join the writer's block discord! they're the kindest group of mcyt fic writers and they helped me get through this. link is: https://discord.gg/BBAAxQPVbx


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